The Desire of Nothingness - A Reflection on Deserts and Barranca

"The closer one becomes to approaching God, 

the simpler she becomes."

- St. Teresa of Avila

   Up until Thursday I have only had two experiences where I was traveling in a car, packed in with a plethora of other bags and odds and ends: one, everytime I move in and out of school; two, the car ride from the airport in Jamaica to Spur Tree with bags and people. Thursday, I, along with the three other girls and two sisters, piled into a car made for eight. Let me tell you, the mom van is made for eight. I have a hard time believing that at any point in time this car could actually fit eight people. Regardless, with four girls and two sisters, that was only six people. So, why was it packed? You see, our school in Miraflores, EIC, supports the Fe Y Alegría school in Barranca with their Tombola for the Kermesse. You know, that carnival type thing I described a few blog posts prior. This meant that we were taking a few of the things with us beings that Barranca is a 3.5 hour car ride away. So this girl, who loves to snuggle, got to snuggle with multiple 5kg bags of rice the whole way. Needless to say, this provoked many thoughts in my heart, mind and soul.

   First, you must know that Barranca, while being 3.5 hours away, is also one of the poorest missions of the IHM Sisters here in Perú. There is a public school there called Fe Y Alegría which is directed by three beautiful IHM Sisters. We began our journey at 6:30 in the morning, which does not really seem like such a feat anymore beings we have to catch the bus to Callou every morning at 6:50. We all piled in the car with myself in the back seat snuggling the rice and the three girls in the middle. Many of you know how much I love books and language, so of course, I brought two books with me to read to and fro in the car. As we were driving through Lima, I settled into my book and propped my leg up on some rice. This could not be that bad, I convinced myself. And in actuality, it was nothing. No problema, hermana! 

    After about an hour, we finally exited the city of Lima and were headed toward Barranca via the Panamerica Highway. At first, I was thinking to myself, that it was just like driving on the PA Turnpike to Uncle Tommys house. However, while that does seem to be an extremely extensive drive, the turnpike is surrouned by lush, green, trees and bushes. This road...hello nothingness. I was reading one minute, and the next minute, I happened to look out the window to realize the nothingness. Beautiful Nothingness. 

    We were surrounded by the desert. Having just finished The Alchemist again for the fifth time, I immediately felt like I had been thrown into the story. In this story, there is a shepherd boy searching for his treasure. He travels far and wide all through various different climates and countries, but the majority of the book takes place in the desert. While I have always loved the book (I mean, I have read it five times and still, everytime I find something new and fantastic in it), it did not truly hit my heart until that drive through the desert. You see, for those who have not read it, the shepherd boy realizes that he always had his treasure and it was always simply present. Suddenly, I realized, like he had realized, my truest desire in the world. 

    Perhaps I have written about it before, perhaps not. In my heart, there has always been this desire for nothing. Now some of you might say, why would an English major state it that way as opposed to I have never desired anything? Well, you see, the two statements are extremely different. I have never NEVER desired anything; every human heart desires something. My heart has always desired nothing, or rather, nothingness. It is not a poverty, but rather an extreme richness. But how can one desire nothing? 

    Think about the desert. If you have never seen one (and I had never seen one until just this past week), google an image. Look at the wide horizon of NOTHING. There is only sand. Every so often, one will come across an oasis, but more than not, there is nothing but sand, sand, sand and some sun. As we were driving through the desert, I watched the minutes of nothingness pass by my window. Deep down inside, I found this desire for that nothingness. The desert is full of the bare minimum. I stared out the window and imagined myself simply standing in the middle of the desert: just me and absolute nothing else but sand. There were no houses, no animals, no cars, no walkways. NOTHING. The desire grew and grew with each passing moment, that is, this desire I have always had. 

    I fell asleep to a dream-like image of me with nothing but the clothes on my back and a backpack filled with necessities. So often, I want to throw my hands up in the air and let go of every single thing that posesses me including things, places and people. I imagined just letting go of everything I have ever owned, or what had ever had hold over me. I wanted nothing to hold me down so that I could fully do Gods work, what He wants of me. If I am posessed by places or people, I can never do His work completely. For example, if I had a fear of leaving my beloved home of Croydon, I would never had made it to Jamaica, Peru or even Immaculata. And imagine all the people I never would have met. But for a greater example, if I could never leave my family, while I love them so dearly, I could never enter a religious community. They say, what you give up, you are given tenfold in return. And is that not the truth. Every single time I give up what I am so blessed to have in my comfortable home, like family, I am given tenfold in return. Every where I go, I gain new family members, new sisters, new brothers, new mothers, new fathers. Of course, for my family reading this, NO ONE CAN EVER REPLACE YOU. But, if I could never let go, I would never be as blessed as I am. 

    I have always felt this desire to let go of everything, to let my heart be posessed by this nothingness like the desert. Because if I have nothingness, then I can only be filled with more. Imagine like this: you have a glass of water, half full. You do not want to drink it for fear that you will never have anything to drink again. A waiter comes around with a silver pitched and asks if you want more to drink, but he can only fill your cup if it is empty first. Not wanting to drink the water, for fear that there is nothing in the pitcher, you deny the waiters offer and continue to sit, with your half full glass of water. A few moments later, you realize that the waiter has been filling others glasses with the most delicious of wines. Even if the waiter had been able to fill your cup with the water in it, the water would have diluted the wine and decreased its value. Because you were fearful to let go of the water, you missed out on the blessing of the best wine. Your heart is like that. Jesus only wants to fill us with good things, but if we cannot first empty our hearts and possess nothingness, we cannot be filled. Jesus will fill our hearts despite the things we hold onto, but those things dilute the blessings. This is how I have always felt. I want my heart to be an empty glass so Jesus can fill me with good things. Nothingness, like the desert.

    I awoke from my "sleep" the moment we hit the dirt road that lead us to Barranca. In fact, I flew off the seat. Where on earth are we? my human senses asked. And then I saw the houses, the motortaxis, the school and fell in love. THIS IS WHAT MY HEART HAS ALWAYS DESIRED. The nothingness of the poor, because as much as they do not have, they are filled with happiness that the rich cannot possess. We were so blessed to walk around the school and meet the children of Fe Y Alegría. I was even able to do basic math with the first graders (thank God I know my numbers in Spanish). Hugs and kisses were given all over the place and the children, despite not knowing a word of English understood. The sisters, by their very example, increased my desire to love and serve the poor, with my heart of nothingness. In fact, within a half hour, I had already told Sister Teresa Catherine, I was staying. She, of course, said that I had probably said that everywhere I have gone in Perú. But no, I told her, this is it. This place, this beautiful place, is the very desire of my soul. I stood on the patio, watching the children, being a recipient of so much love, and just knew in my heart, that the desert had spoken to my soul so truthfully. I have a heart MADE for nothingness. I have a heart made for nothingness so that I can love each and every soul, whether rich or poor, with the fullest of capacities. Yes, I know I am made for this.